


Burning loss (and revelations)

by ItsJina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, slight angst not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJina/pseuds/ItsJina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas struggles with the loss of his wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning loss (and revelations)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally in my compilation of ficlets, but I took some out and put them as stand alone.

The loss of his wings is, at first, relieving.

He never realized how heavy they were. Now, he feels lighter than he has ever felt in his long life, so light that he believes he can still fly. And the skin-tingling breeze that brushes his back every so often was cool and nice. 

So, if his shoulder blades sometimes hurt, he passed it off as nothing. He was still adjusting to being human. There were bound to be a few things off at first. The ache would fade away, he reasoned.

It’s only when his knees hit the ground and his sweaty palms grabs for stability over the dirt does he give all his attention to the burning pain searing his shoulder blades.

Dean and Sam hover over him immediately, crouching to his level, but he can’t hear a word they’re saying over his pulsating head and the ringing in his ears. His arms shake unsteadily, barely keeping him from falling face flat to the ground.

Dean and Sam put their hands on his shoulders, holding him upright, and he lets out a little cry. Their hands were too close to the pain.

His breaths come out with shudders as he tries to steady himself, waiting for the ringing to fade and the pulsation to stop pounding so loud. All he can feel is the rising burn on his back, a scorching reminder of what he’s lost. It pressures him, weighs him down.

Another kind of ache pushes itself to his throat and he blink back tears. The hollowness he feels in his stomach and, most of all, from his back, the once cool breeze now emphasizing what will never be there again—that chokes him. He hasn’t felt this gaping, crushing ache since the night of the fall.

Faintly, he hears Dean and Sam calling him urgently, and he feels their firm grips holding him, holding him in pace, keeping him grounded.

He’s grounded.

His lips crackle, dry as a desert, as he part them to speak. How does he quell his rising anxiety without raising alarm to Dean and Sam?

His hearing sharpens, and he could hear Dean ordering Sam to go buy some water and snack bars from the mini-store not too far from their hike. Sam nods and rushes off. Dean turns back to him, his face full of worry. “Cas? Cas, what happened?”

Sweat trickles down the side of his face and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “F-fine. I just need some water.”

How can absence make so much pain? How is it possible for it to weigh on him like gravity, pressing into his bones, threatening to crush it all to dust? His heart beats irregularly and he feels it now more than ever, the complete and unity with his vessel—his body now. And he feels everything so strongly, it overwhelms him for a moment. His arm buckles and he sways, but Dean catches him.

"Whoa, hey, Cas, hey."

The back of his shirt is wet and sticky with sweat. He sees Dean glancing to it with concern, then looking at him overall. He tries not to shake as much, he doesn’t want to make Dean worry, but his legs are quaky and he’s holding the sky on his shoulders. He just wants to collapse to the ground now and let his body sink as one with the earth.

Dean looks at him for a long moment, contemplative, and then he shuffles around and leans forward. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “Here, get on.”

He looks at Dean, probably with confusion, because Dean rolls his eyes and pats his back. “C’mon. This is the one time I’m offering a piggy back ride. Get on.”

He starts to protest, wants to tell Dean that he’s fine, that Dean doesn’t have to worry, because he hates making Dean worry, but Dean cuts him off. “Don’t start. Don’t lie to me. You’re barely holding on. Just…get on my back, and I’ll carry you back down to the road.”

With a sigh, he climbs on to Dean’s back and the relief that rushes forward makes him relaxes, puting all his weight on Dean. Dean heaves in surprise, falling forward slightly. “Jesus, Cas, warn a guy first.”

He whispers, “I’m sorry,” but it comes out as a mumble and he doubt Dean heard him clearly. He half-listened to Dean’s words, telling him to put his arms around the neck and to hold on tight. He distantly feels Dean’s arms holding on to him, keeping him from slipping.

With a grunt, Dean stands up, unsteady at first, then straightens.

A haggard and relieved sigh escapes and he closes his eyes, his head on Dean’s shoulder. He hears Dean grumbles under his breath, something about Sam’s brilliant idea to go hiking on their day off and never letting Sam decide their vacation again. A laughter tickles inside of him, but he’s too exhausted to laugh.

His back still burns. Gravity still crushes his shoulders. He still aches.

"Hey, you still with me? Don’t fall asleep yet, not until Sam and I make sure you’re all right. So…"

Dean’s voice rumbling  near his ear, Dean’s arms holding onto him, Dean’s heat—so very different from the burn on his back—warming his everything, like a fireplace during a snowy night.

He squeezes Dean just a little bit, tightening his hold for a moment, wanting to say thank you but the words are stuck in his dry throat.

Dean pauses in his monologue and says softly, “Hey, don’t worry. I won’t let you slip. I got you. I can carry you, okay?” In a whisper, “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, Cas. I’m here also.”

Cas only sinks his face deeper into Dean’s back.

He will have to apologize to Dean later for making his shirt wet.


End file.
